


Bad Omens

by CosyBlue



Series: Bad Omens [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Mutual Pining, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sequel, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-19 04:09:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosyBlue/pseuds/CosyBlue
Summary: Armageddon has been stopped and Aziraphale and Crowley proceed to live a perfectly happy life free from restraints of heaven and hell. But deep down both know that sooner or later, something will come for them.  And when – eventually -  hell approaches Crowley to help them get a new weapon for the fight against heaven, Crowley couldn't care less. But demons aren’t stupid and they know just well enough how a little threat to his pet angel could change his mind….





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> English is a foreign language for me, but since I watched it all in English, it felt more natural to write it the same way. I hope you enjoy it and everything makes sense. :)

Crowley woke up in cold sweat at 2 am. It’s been the night after _Armageddidn’t_ , more exactly, the night after Aziraphale and Crowley had tricked both heaven and hell into thinking they had turned into invincible supernaturals. And of course, celestial beings don’t really need sleep, but if you have all the time of the world at your disposal, a little nap for an hour, night or century always brightens up the mood. In this case, when demons sleep, well, they also dream. In Crowley’s place, it had been a dream, which took him right back into Aziraphale’s body. Being him felt exactly like you would expect it to feel – like being a cuddly, lovely teddy bear. Which could upset a demon quite thoroughly. „God, I’ll never get over this, “ he muttered. And God nodded, grinning complacently.

Meanwhile in Soho, a few hours later, Aziraphale felt free for the very first time in his entire existence. Crowley and he had defied both heaven and hell, had stopped Armageddon and first and foremost, he had given an excellent performance as Crowley in hell, smugly asking for a rubber duck in front of a whole army of demons. There were certain expectations one had to live up to as an angel – and nothing of what Aziraphale had done in the last two weeks did fit into the mould of how heaven would describe “good angels”, even if it would be the perfection of being good in the opinion of any sane being.  
So, for the very first time in his entire existence, Aziraphale was ready to step out of heaven’s expectations and just be himself. If he wanted to dance the Gavotte all night, well he would. If he wanted to perform bold miracles, so what. If he wanted to have lunch with Crowley in every fucking restaurant in the world, then he would fucking do that. And yes, the angel giggled to himself for using the F-word, even in thoughts. So when Crowley eventually entered Aziraphale’s bookshop, wearing heavier sunglasses than ever, he found his friend standing in front of a huge pile of new clothes, holding an orange Hawaiian shirt to his chest with the broadest smile on his face.  
“No, noooooo, angel, no. Not a Hawaiian shirt.”  
Startled, Aziraphale looked up.  
“Oh but it does look nice though. Don’t you like it?”  
Of course, Crowley loathed it. But since he loved making fun of his little angelic weirdo, he loved to hate it.  
“No one, absolutely no one on this planet or any other, likes Hawaiian shirts.”  
Irritated, Crowley gazed upon the pile of clothes – every piece even more terrible in taste than the previous one.  
“What’s this all about anyway? I thought you liked your jacket. Didn’t you wear that jacket for over 180 years now? You even made me remove your paint stain, so in love are you with this jacket.”  
There was no way Aziraphale could stop himself from blushing.  
“Oh I DO love this jacket and I’m not planning on getting rid of it. I just thought I’d try something… new.”  
Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled as he smiled lovingly at the absolutely disastrous Hawaiian shirt.  
“I’m a new angel. You were right… we’re on our own side now. I can be and do whatever I want. As long as I – personally, not any force of heaven – am convinced, that what I do is good.”  
As usual, Aziraphale didn’t notice how Crowley cringed while he casually admitted mid-sentence what Crowley had fought for for years now – that they were on their own side. Together.  
“Now that sounds good. New angel. I like it.”  
A flattered smile crossed Aziraphale’s face.  
“And what is this new angel up to, with his new freedom?” Crowley asked, leaning over a chair, hoping that these plans would involve him since it would be rather boring if he would be left alone here. In that case, Crowley would fancy a good sleep for another couple of years again.  
“I would say – let me tempt you to a spot of lunch!” Aziraphale said, while already taking off his jacket, bow tie and shirt – which made Crowley a bit uncomfortable – to exchange it with the orange Hawaiian shirt, well-fitting for his brown trousers. He didn’t want to change too much at once. Also, the term “well-fitting” could have been used in a rather broad definition here. Crowley couldn’t help laughing out loud.  
“You want me to have lunch with you in THIS shirt?”  
"Well… you don’t have to,” Aziraphale answered, taken aback. Somehow he had gotten so used to the thought of having the demon join him, that he hadn’t wasted a single thought on the possibility of Crowley not wanting to come along. Which was - indeed - 100% correct.  
“Oh, I don’t mind. But don’t expect me to save your brand-new angelic ass when they mistake you for a hippie.”  
Which was, in fact, no threat at all.  
“Ah, I’d love to meet some hippies. There’s so much lovey-dovey spirit in their communities.”  
The second Crowley needed to stomach “lovey-dovey” was enough for a new plan coming into Aziraphale’s mind and you could literally see it spread all over his face.  
“I could drive. I could drive by myself. I think I want to drive this time!”  
And he was already at the door before Crowley could have reacted in any way. “Not in my Bentley!” he yelled after him, entirely worried and happy at the same time. _“If Armageddon wasn’t the end of me, this angel sure will be…”_


	2. An unpleasant visit

And off they went. It doesn’t need saying that of course, Aziraphale didn’t drive Crowley’s Bentley, because as we all know, Crowley would have died a thousand deaths. Instead, Aziraphale miracled himself a nice little oldtimer, which wasn’t capable of going more than 50 miles per hour. Crowley loathed it and would insist on him driving the Bentley, but once in a while he always granted the angel the joy of driving with his ludicrous little blue car. Which didn’t stop Crowley from ranting about it for the whole drive. They soon became kind of famous around London, because Aziraphale wanted to start his own food blog (“No Crowley, no one will notice it’s me. Heaven doesn’t care about food at all.”), praising all the lovely dishes he tasted, not without being picky from time to time, and Crowley ensured a good balance between good and evil by writing bad Google Reviews about the places they’ve been. Which meant they left behind some really irritated restaurant owners because they were praised in this little weird food blog and simultaneously absolutely destroyed on Google Reviews. They also fulfilled some good and bad deeds every now and then, not really reporting them to their more-or-less-still-bosses, but making sure they didn’t go unnoticed.  
Their cosy little world was well protected and Crowley had the best of times watching the angel perform “bold” miracles like getting extremely good theatre tickets or blowing off the hat of an impolite person.

It wouldn’t surprise anyone, that Crowley’s blood went dead cold, when he came back to his flat after a lovely day with Aziraphale including ice cream in St. James Park and was greeted by a familiar and unpleasant voice.  
"Welcome back, Crowley.”  
You really couldn’t tell who’s been more terrified: Crowley’s ever-so-scared plants or Crowley himself.  
"Hastur.”  
The tone of his voice said everything. It had been years and Crowley had successfully suppressed thoughts about the fact that at some point in the future this moment would definitely happen. He turned around and was instantly pissed. Hastur sat in his armchair with his legs crossed and both arms on the rest, as if he owned this place.  
“Don’t think I’ll forget what you did to Ligur, just because you’re some angel-loving bastard bathing in holy water now, “ Hastur hissed.  
Crowley shouldn’t have missed the chance to catch Hastur with the bucket of holy water too. Why didn’t he ever thought of asking Aziraphale for another bottle, just in case.  
“What do you want?”  
"Oh, I do not want anything and I certainly don’t want to be here, “ Hastur answered.  
Which meant, that he has been sent from the greater evil. Not looking good so far.  
"Beelzebub wants a word with you down in hell. I’m here to pick you up.”  
“Beelzebub knows perfectly well, that he can have a word with me wherever he fucking wants. I’m not going down there anymore.”  
He might have been a fallen angel, but he had to fall no longer. The TV switched on immediately and Beelzebub appeared beneath a weather chart of England.  
“Very well, Crowley. It seems you have earned yourself that privilege.”  
Hastur looked like he was going to burn every cell of Crowley’s body. Crowley didn’t give a single fuck.  
“What do you want?”  
Beelzebub realized very quickly, that there was no space for long talks here.  
“We need your help, Crowley. The humans have invented a new weapon and even if they don’t realise it, this weapon is able to destroy any heavenly creature. Forever.”  
Crowley swallowed hard. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going.  
“Even if Armageddon has been stopped the last time, it will come eventually. And we will be prepared. We need to get that weapon.”  
“What is stopping you? Why do you need me?”  
At this point, one could almost pity Hastur. He so wanted to do that important job, just as he had wanted to deliver the antichrist. And again, the forces of hell chose Crowley.  
“There have been… difficulties. First of all, we don’t even know what this weapon looks like. We only know where it has been invented. And the way humans are working… we really don’t understand it. It just seems stupid. You have been here for so long… not to say _gone native_ …”  
Hastur cringed at the word native.  
“We need you to figure this out, Crowley.”  
Same old story. Crowley allowed himself a burst of short laughter.  
“And what makes you think I’ll do that?”  
That was the sentence Hastur had been waiting for. His dark eyes glowed, stuck on Crowley, as he said in a very calm and dangerous voice:  
"Now how’s your pet angel doing these days?”  
That was obviously a threat. Crowley had to use all his strength to not turn his head into an enormous snake and tear out Hastur’s bowels.  
"What did you do?"  
“No need to worry. Everything’s perfectly _tickety-boo_ ,” Beelzebub replied. “Still. But things can change.”  
Crowley winced internally. It had taken them long enough, but they had finally discovered his weakness. He was caught in a tight spot. On the one hand, he didn’t want to be blackmailed by hell every now and then with them threatening Aziraphale. On the other hand, he couldn’t bear to risk Aziraphale getting hurt or worse… _killed_. He sighed. He had to play it cool.  
"If it’s so important, then I’ll do it.”  
Hastur was clearly unpleased with this response. And one threatening gesture was enough for Crowley to boil all over again.  
“But if you as much as lay a finger on him, I’ll burn down all of hell.”  
So much for staying cool. Hastur looked as if he wanted to vomit and… well, did vomit. A bunch of white maggots poured out of his mouth.  
"Disgusting,” Hastur wheezed.  
"Disgusting indeed,” Crowley said with abhorrence.  
“Enough.”  
Beelzebub ended their dispute, not because he didn’t want them to – any demon loves to watch some quarrels and fights – but he was short on time and felt the strong need to wash away these disgusting feelings of love Crowley displayed. A cassette appeared on Crowley’s desk.  
“Your instructions. Make sure you get back to me if you have any new information. We keep an eye on you, Crowley.”  
And the TV switched off. Hastur poured a last bunch of maggots on Crowley’s floor before he left the flat nauseated.  
"That’s so disgusting,” Crowley said to himself. _"Aziraphale might have fainted."_ Thank god he hadn’t been with him. His eyes caught the cassette on the desk. “Oh come on, it’s the 21st century. Don’t you guys have USB sticks?” Luckily, the Bentley was able to convert any data carrier to a playable medium. He would have a fortnight before it would turn into a “Best of Queens” album. With a scratching sound the car radio came to life.  
"Hello, Crowley. Good to have you on board again.”  
Crowley imitated the voice mockingly.  
“The weapon has been invented in Paris, in the Arts et Métiers ParisTech, the National Advanced School of Engineering.”  
"Oh for fuck's sake, are you kidding me? Paris? Does it have to be Paris?”  
Of course, it had to be Aziraphale’s most beloved city after London. Paris. He would definitely kill him – well, inconveniently discorporate him – if he found out, that Crowley had gone to Paris without him. It had become late. Crowley decided to deal with that tomorrow. He had to make sure, that Aziraphale didn’t suspect anything – or he would put himself in danger. 

About 80 miles away from London, Anathema had just given her little daughter Agnes, named after her great-great-great-great-great grandmother, a good night’s kiss before Newt went to her room with her to read her a bedtime story. Anathema had felt odd the last couple of days. Her mind had wandered off every time to the same thing: the second book of prophecies from her ancestor. Had it been a mistake to burn it? Would she have needed the prophecies to keep something bad from happening? Already deeply in her thoughts again she went through the kitchen – and stopped at the door. There was something unusual in her kitchen. Something that has not been there before. She felt it. Slowly she turned around – and discovered a book, lying on the table. „Further nice and accurate prophecies of Agnes Nutter concerning the world that is to come.” She’d probably never know how it made its way to her kitchen table. But it was the absolute proof, that her part of the story wasn’t over yet. She opened the book at a random page. The first prophecy said:

2561:  
Good or evil, evil or good  
They strugle to be understood  
Help is to come from an unexpected point  
Believeth in my words, Paris will ye not disappoint

Good or evil, evil or good… struggling to be understood… Anathema pondered for a while. She hadn’t met many good or evil creatures in her life. Could this one be about this weird angel-demon couple, who sort of helped to stop Armageddon? Anyway, Anathema had studied the prophecies of Agnes Nutter long enough to know when it was her turn. Without any hesitation, she walked to her husband.  
"Newt! Go pack your suitcase. We have to go to Paris.”  
"What? Ah… okay. Like… now?”  
Anathema nodded.  
"Yes. We have to go immediately.”


	3. One is the loneliest number

It was 10 am and Aziraphale’s day had already been troublesome. There had been customers in the bookshop and again, one of them had asked, how his father was doing. Ever since Aziraphale had made a change in his clothes, people assumed there had been a generation change at the bookshop (it was about time after more than a hundred years). Aziraphale wasn’t really delighted about being mistaken for his own son and didn’t know, what these assumptions said about his former clothing style. Also, he didn’t want them to buy any of his books.  
After the customers left the bookshop – to Aziraphale’s pleasure – and everything was right back at its proper place, the angel got bored. Time to call Crowley. There was a new restaurant that had opened just recently in Oxford and he had wanted to go there for days. Merrily, Aziraphale went to his antique phone and dialled.

Crowley had already arrived in Paris the night before and was on his way to his first rough indication. His phone started ringing as he just left the first Parisian roundabout. He still got confused about on which side to drive, so there was a literal concert of honking horns around him. “Incoming call: Aziraphale,” a female voice told him. Crowley sighed. He wasn’t anywhere near ready for this. “Hi, this is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do. Do it with style,” his voicemail reacted. As usual, Aziraphale simply started talking, not realizing that Crowley hadn’t picked up the phone yet.  
"Crowley, there is a new restaurant I thought would be quite interesting for my food blog. Would you like to come with me?”  
Just in time, Crowley picked up the phone. Still not knowing what to say.  
“Aziraphale, I’m sorry. I’m… busy today.”  
"Busy?!”  
The angel was shocked. In the past eight years, Crowley had never been busy before. Every time Aziraphale had called him, the demon had been ready to join him to whatever he had fancied.  
“Yeah, there’s… stuff to do, you know.”  
In the background, people shouted angrily at him.  
“Quittez la rue! Imbécile!”  
Crowley’s French wasn't that good, but it could be, by all means possible, that the Parisians were upset about him driving on the wrong side of the road.  
“Was that French? Are there people yelling at you in French?”  
Aziraphale was thoroughly irritated, while Crowley had only one thought:  
_“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”_  
“Yeah, there are some… tourists and they don’t know which side the cars are driving here. GET OFF THE ROAD IF YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!”  
Some very confused Frenchmen stared at him.  
“However, I can’t make it this time. See you, angel.”  
Crowley hung up.  
“Shit shit shit shit shit SHIT.”  
That really didn’t go according to plan.

Meanwhile in Soho, Aziraphale stared at his phone in disbelief. “That was… peculiar.” He had the stinging feeling, that the demon was hiding something from him. Had he started working for hell again? Wouldn’t he tell him? After some troubled thoughts, the angel decided, that it was none of his business and he shouldn’t bother. He would go to Oxford on his own. He had absolutely no problem with that. Not at all.

In the morning of the same day, the Device family had taken the first train from London to Paris. The train had left St. Pancras International Station about half an hour ago. Newt and 5-year old Agnes dozed, cuddling on a bench, while Anathema was sitting across from them and studied her book of prophecies.

1334:  
Listen to Agnes for she will save thy lifes –  
More than once

1899:  
The best weapons in this world are books  
Words cut deeper than swords  
Find yeeself in a wise place  
Thine eyes are the windows of escape

She kept turning the pages.

2221:  
Black coffee on midday helps understand  
The miracles of the world and what thee comprehend  
Be reckless when needed and cautious at risk  
For Agnes will tell thee when time turns to mist

3021:  
Water thy plants  
For we all love raspberries  
All and foremost Agnes

 _“Agnes had become a little self-centered,”_ Anathema thought surprised. She was so concentrated, that she didn’t notice at first when the eyes of her daughter opened.  
"Ah, you found the book, Mummy.”  
Startled, Anathema looked up.  
"What did you say, honey?”  
“I’m happy, that you found the book. A postman brought it to me,” Agnes replied in her sweet, innocent voice. Anathema looked like she had hit Crowley’s Bentley all over again.  
“A postman brought you this book?”  
“Yes. He asked if my name was Agnes. And he gave me the book. He said it’s for me and I had to sign. I painted a cat.”  
Cold shivers ran down Anathema’s spine. Newt was already worried about taking Agnes with them. If she played a significant role in destiny – and since she was the great-great-great-great-great granddaughter of Agnes Nutter, one day she definitely would – Anathema needed to be very cautious.  
“My love, come near.”  
Curious, Agnes leaned forward.  
“We don’t tell Daddy about this, ok?”  
Agnes giggled. She was used to Mummy having secrets.  
“Ok, Mummy.”

In the meantime, Crowley had reached the 13th arrondissement, where the campus of the Arts et Métiers ParisTech University was located. It was a big, old building and as he had heard, a very elitist University. Crowley remembered some events in the 19th century in which he had only been vaguely involved, but he himself had never been to this place before. _“Where should I start now…”_ he thought to himself, sipping on his deep black disguise-coffee. He could only hope, that Aziraphale was still dwelling in London, not having a clue what was going on. After watching the entrance for some hours, he decided to trick the porter first thing tomorrow in the morning. Until then, he had to get himself a lab coat…

About 350 miles away, a blue shabby oldtimer parked in exactly the best parking spot available in Oxford in front of the “Oyster’s King”. Aziraphale had been particularly looking forward to this visit, because how great had their oysters to be if they called themselves “Oyster’s King”. He sat alone at a table for two, on the right side as usual. Somehow he wasn’t that excited anymore. “Come on, Aziraphale,” he told himself. “You’ve been used to eating alone. It’s no big deal. And oysters are a delicious dish. Oh I know, I’ll take broiled Gulf Oysters in a garlic butter herb gratin.” What he especially enjoyed about having lunch with Crowley was, that the demon always ordered a dish, even though he never ate more than a few bites (he really just ordered something to make Aziraphale happy). Which meant, the angel could always taste at least two delicacies and therefore give a far better opinion about the restaurant on his food blog. _“Should I order two meals now? Or some extra side dishes?”_  This was a valid nightmare. Aziraphale hadn’t realised, how dependent he had become on Crowley. “I need to start things on my own again.” And as soon as he made this decision, an idea crossed his mind. “I could open a book club.” Once a week, he and fellow book lovers could meet and talk about their favourite books. Something he could never do with Crowley since the demon didn’t read books. Not a single one at all. Oh, it would be so lovely! “I’d like to change my order to take-away. Yes, I have urgent matters to tend to, they can not wait.”

After approximately two and a half hours, the Device family reached the _Gare du Nord_   in Paris. Anathema had booked a nice bed and breakfast during the journey. It was a rather small room, with a double bed, a kid’s bed and most importantly: a desk, in front of the window. Anathema already sat there, studying the book again, while Newt and Agnes unpacked the suitcases. “I thought I could go to the zoo with Agnes, while you… take care of your things?” He clearly did not want his child to be involved in this prophecy-thing, just as he didn’t want his wife being involved in it again. But unfortunately, he had no say in the second. On the one hand, the delivery man had explicitly brought the book to Agnes and Anathema would feel better, to have her child with her. On the other hand, things could get dangerous and maybe it was better if she figured out what was going on first. “That’s a good idea, Newt. You two will have a great time there.” Lovingly Newt kissed her goodbye before he and Agnes went to the door. “Don’t be scared of bridges, Mummy!” Anathema laughed. Her little sunshine always had the best of advice for her.


	4. Please find me

Very pleased with himself Aziraphale slammed the car door, with a miraculously hot take-away meal in his hands. His followers (Crowley had insisted on him learning the right expression after the angel had referred to them as ‘lovers’ several times) would be curious to learn about his trip to Oxford. He was glad, that he regained control over the situation. He wasn’t used to such unexpected surprises anymore. Lost in thoughts he opened the door of his bookshop, put the oysters on the table, turned around – and gazed in blank horror at an elegant grey suit, the signature clothing of the archangel Gabriel. There was no time to wonder. Gabriel shouted at him instantly, in full disbelief.  
"What the heaven are you wearing, Aziraphale? Oh my god, when you think an angel couldn’t sink any lower…”  
"Orange was the trend colour of 2019,” Aziraphale mumbled, hands folded over his orange Hawaiian shirt. He wasn’t prepared for this moment. Why hadn’t he ever thought about what to do, if this would happen? If the unlikely event of a visit from heaven were no longer so unlikely. Gabriel shook his head in disbelief for a last time, before straightening up like he wanted to say _now to business._  
“I wondered if you’d happen to know what your spouse is up to these days?”  
Aziraphale smiled nervously, with eyebrows raised, looking like he had forgotten his own name.  
"Your _bad boy_ ?” Gabriel tried again.  
The angel continued to stare nervously. If Aziraphale tried to fool him, he would have done a really good job, for if Gabriel hadn’t seen the files with his own eyes (File 1: Aziraphale and Crowley eating ice cream in St. James Park, File 2: Aziraphale and Crowley visiting a musical in West End, File 3: Aziraphale and Crowley getting ready for a picnic), he would have sworn, the angel didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. What a pity, that Aziraphale didn’t play the iconic mastermind, but was truly stressed out, overwhelmed and genuinely not sure, what Gabriel wanted from him. After all, Crowley did mind his own business just right now, leaving the angel without any knowledge of his whereabouts. Gabriel sighed and gave up.  
"The demon Crowley. Do you know where he is?”  
Now that was a clear message. Slowly Aziraphale’s head went from right to left.  
“I don’t have any idea, where the demon Crowley could be. Why is it of concern to you?”  
If someone had listened carefully, he might have noticed the hint of hope in his voice, mixed with a dash of fear. He wanted to know what Crowley was up to, but at the same time was afraid to find out. Especially when it attracted the interest of heaven.  
“Well, that’s too bad. I clearly expected otherwise.”  
Inner Aziraphale screamed. What was going on here?  
“We’ve noticed the work you did, Aziraphale. Good job. We don’t want bad blood between us.”  
The angel still had his nervous smile stuck on his face.  
“After all, we didn’t bother you for years now. Even tolerated that you changed the weather once.”  
Oh yes, the day Crowley and he had planned their picnic in the very idyllic landscape of Scotland. Crowley had become quite fond of Scotland, he liked the kind of people living there. Ah, he should have known it would fall back on him one day.  
“You have to give us credit for that. So… we’d like to ask you for a… favour.”  
“A favour?” The angel’s voice cracked.  
“Yes, a favour. We think it might be quite fitting for you.”  
Aziraphale was still smiling, smiling and being terrified.  
“We know that the demon Crowley is up to no good. Obviously, he’s a demon. But it seems like he’s on his way to retrieve a new weapon.”  
“A weapon?” the angel screamed in shock.  
_“Wow,”_ Gabriel thought, _“he really doesn’t know.”_  
”Yes, he’s been ordered to collect an earthly weapon, lethal for… angels. Heaven’s guard keepers. Any heavenly creature.”  
Aziraphale had so lost control of this situation. This was bad, this was really bad.  
"We want you to find this weapon, obtain it instead of Crowley and bring it directly to us.”  
He might have stepped out of heaven’s expectations and might have successfully created his own side with Crowley – but Aziraphale was still, at heart, an obedient type of person. And to be honest – he didn’t have a choice. After all, Crowley was involved. He _had_ to find him.  
“So what do you say, Aziraphale? Are heaven and the _nearly fallen angel_ working together again?”  
A weak smile stayed in the angel’s ever so polite face.  
“I’d be delighted to be of assistance.”  
“Great! Then… keep me updated. You know, heaven watches over its sheep. I’d start in a big city. They don’t invent those kinds of weapons in _Plockton_.”  
Referring to the small Scottish city they had gone for their picnic, Gabriel made sure that Aziraphale knew just how well heaven watched over them. With a last cheeky wink, Gabriel left the bookshop. As soon as the archangel was out of sight, Aziraphale sank on a stool. “Crowley… what have you done?” Where could the demon possibly be? He’d known that call in the morning had been peculiar. He should have trusted his gut. Wait, the call… Had there been anything that could hint on Crowley’s whereabouts? _“There have been people shouting in French.”_  Was he in France? _“I’d start in a big city,”_  Gabriel’s voice echoed in his mind. “Paris. He has to be in Paris.” Crowley simply HAD to be there. It was the angel’s only hope. _“Well. It was fun while it lasted,”_  Aziraphale thought to himself. Time to go back to where he had to be. _What_ he had to be. The bookshop went dead silent, as the angel took off the Hawaiian shirt and put on his blue shirt, gilet, bow tie and jacket again. Leaving for St. Pancras Station, Aziraphale passed his blue oldtimer, which suddenly turned into a dark red. The angel was in no good mood at all.

The sun was shining on this early spring day as Anathema strolled through Paris. In any other city, a woman dressed in a green Victorian-looking robe, running around with a book full of sticky notes and a pendulum, would have caused a stir. In Paris, it was _fashion_. The pendulum led her to the _Île de la cité _, the small inland isle surrounded by the _Seine_ and one of the most crowded places. But it had stopped working here all of a sudden. “Strange…” Suddenly, a prophecy struck her mind. Frantically she turned the pages.__

____

2134:  
Lost in one strange town  
A place where tragedy took its fayt  
Burned to ashes the love of thousands  
Let it lead yee to wisdom

Notre Dame. Notre Dame had burnt down some years ago. With quick steps she ran to the remains of the famous cathedral, which was still under reconstruction. The place was still bursting of emotions, auras and energy. After having surrounded the cathedral, absorbing all the mystical information she could gather, Anathema was already clueless again. Where should she go now? She looked to her right. There was a bridge. _“Don’t be scared of bridges, Mummy.”_ Anathema felt hot and cold at once. Instinctively trusting her gut, she turned and crossed the bridge. She followed the flow of the Seine, passing the _Jardins des Plantes_ , not once looking at any of her tools. Just following the energy she felt. When her eyes fell on the _Bibliothèque National de France_ , the National library, it struck her like lightning. _“Let it lead you to wisdom.”_ The prophecy – it all worked out. Searching for her next hint, she turned around. Another bridge was on her left side. Without a single doubt, she crossed it.

Perfectly on time, the Eurostar train arrived in Paris. Taking a deep breath of Parisian air, Aziraphale left the _Gare du Nord_. __  
“That was nice. We should go by train more often.”  
Abruptly he stopped.  
_“I’m thinking WE. Actually, I’m thinking WE all the time.”_    
Genuinely upset, the angel wandered off aimlessly, when a young lad noticed him.  
"Vous avez besoin d’aide?”  
Startled, Aziraphale looked up. It had been centuries since he’d last spoken some French.  
"Well… je panse...,” he started in a really terrible dialect, and the young lad stopped him immediately, laughing gently.  
“No need to worry, I speak English. Do you need some help? You’re looking lost.”  
Oh, these people were so nice here!  
“Actually yes, I’m looking for my… a friend. He’s tall, not to say quite tall. And… yes, he’s clothed all in black, ginger hair, walking very much from the hips, you should see it, it’s adorable.”  
There was no way of stopping himself.  
“Oh and he’s wearing sunglasses like all the time. Even at night.”  
One could only imagine what was going through the young man’s head, looking at this very odd man describing another very odd man, obviously an old gay couple. Maybe this was some kind of a lifelong love story. Both been unhappily married to their perfectly conservative wives, now finally ready to stand to their true feelings.  
“Do you have his address?” the young man asked, excited to help.  
“Well, I have his address, but that’s in London. We, I mean I, and well, he… ah lives in London. In fact, he is keeping something from me, not entirely sure if voluntarily or not, but he is, and I’m decently sure, that he’s somewhere here in Paris and well, I’m searching for him…”  
Oh no. Not quite the love story the young lad had anticipated. Oh, he knew what awaited this very odd man. The other odd man was cheating on him. He felt truly sorry for this peculiar Englishman. Meanwhile, Aziraphale was still talking.  
“I mean, he has to be here somewhere, at some place. You don’t know, perchance, a place where one could possibly find someone like him? He’s quite a _demon_ actually.”  
The angel whispered the word like a fourteen-year-old would whisper the name of her crush. Obviously, the odd man knew already, what was going to happen if he called his boyfriend a demon.  
“Depends. Does he like to have some fun?”  
Aziraphale’s face brightened up.  
"Oh, yes he loves fun. We don’t always understand the same thing by that, but one could say-,”  
Slowly it became a bit too much, even for this very patient young man.  
“I think I know exactly the right place. Come with me.”  
_“I will ensure that you have a great time tonight, you sweet Englishman,”_   the lad thought to himself, while Aziraphale felt at ease for the first time since Gabriel’s visit. Humanity was so perfectly good!

It had gotten late. Crowley was lying over his armchair, which looked exactly like the armchair of his flat. Hey, one needed at least _some_ comfort on business trips. His laptop rumbled – Crowley used solely a MacBook, on which he had forced Windows software. Which led to repeated inexplicable Apple breakdowns in the whole world. He had researched any known and unknown invention, dissertation and research paper of the Arts et Métiers from the recent past up to now. There had been nothing. Absolutely no clue at all. He had no idea, which of them could possibly pass as a celestial weapon. He sighed and thought back to yesterday when the world had still been in order. Suddenly he jumped. Demons _feel_ the presence of an angel. It was like a sudden heat wave. Most of the demons just shivered for a second and went back to minding their own business immediately. They barely noticed. Any angelic presence felt the same for them. But not for Crowley. Crowley could distinguish the presence of Aziraphale to any other angel. Even the physical range had extended over the centuries. That’s how he’d always been able to find and save Aziraphale. So when this very subtle, light heat stroke swashed over him – any other demon wouldn’t have realised at all. But Crowley realised, recognised and knew immediately – his angel had arrived in Paris. “Oh, FUCK!” Less than a second later, Crowley was already at the door.

As soon as Anathema had crossed the bridge, her pendulum started reacting again. It felt like there was a rest of dark energy in the air. It intensified when she reached the roundabout. _“It’s definitely the demon,”_ she thought to herself. She crossed the roundabout, leaving the main street for the _Boulevard de Charonne_ , which led her to the graveyard _Cimetière du Père Lachaise_. It must have taken her an hour to get there, passing a discreet little hotel called _“L'oiseau de nuit” (The night owl)_ – two seconds before Crowley stormed out of it. “It's got to be here somewhere…” She wasn’t meant to be successful tonight, but Anathema couldn’t know that yet…


	5. All these secrets

Irritated, Crowley looked at the club’s sign. He'd been up and down the road three times already. There was no questioning it. This was the place. Black Horse. And so obviously a nightclub of a very particular kind, you really couldn’t miss the signs. Crowley knew, that Aziraphale had spent some time in a discreet gentleman’s club though, but he had only ever talked about the dancing and how much he had enjoyed it. Never had Crowley had any doubts about it being perfectly innocent Aziraphale taking part in some human dance things. As usual, he tilted his head and made a face. _“I could have been wrong though…”_

The Black Horse was one of the most decent clubs in Paris. The perfect place to bring an Englishman. The young lad and his friends probably felt a bit out of place here. What had actually happened was, that the young lad had phoned his friends, telling them: Guys, I picked up a heartbroken, sweet Englishman, whose cheating demon spouse is sneaking around in Paris tonight. Can we go somewhere special, getting him a really great night? And his friends, affectionate as himself, went all in and took Aziraphale to this club, paid for his drinks, all chatting and dancing and the angel did get a bit carried away, forgetting more and more why he had come to Paris in the first place. That’s when Crowley came into the room. Since he loved dramatic entries, he made sure the door made an extra _wush_ , when he slammed it open.  
_“Oh wow, that really was an extremely good description,”_ the young lad thought surprised, spotting Crowley an instant before Aziraphale turned around himself, holding a liquor-filled shot glass with a cherry on top in his hands. Crowley took one good look at Aziraphale and the strangely over-protective people beneath him. _“What the hell…”_  
“Aziraphale, what are you doing here?”  
“Crowley!” The angel’s voice went from surprised-happy to anxious. Immediately the young lad was at his side, his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder.  
"Does this man bother you?” he asked, making Crowley very happy to have his sunglasses because his eyes would have probably killed both of them.  
“I’m sorry, I’m bothering you?” the demon asked highly dramatically, and all the young Frenchmen were nodding to each other. Ah yes, there he was – the cheating boyfriend. Gently Aziraphale put the hand of his young protector away.  
“Thank you very much, my dear, everything’s perfectly tickety-boo.” And to Crowley, not noticing the young lad very openly wonder about _tickety-boo_ :  
“Shall we have a word in private?” He nodded to the door and they both went outside, to a small backyard. Miraculously, nobody was there except them.  
An awkward silence fell over them for some moments, before Crowley’s head went up and down Aziraphale’s body.  
“You’re wearing your jacket again? What’s with new angel’s Hawaiian shirt?”  
_“Or did the same thing happen to you?”_ he thought.  
“Did you get a visit from head office? Is that the reason?”  
“No, of course not! Head office, haha. Well, they wouldn’t dare, would they?”  
Anybody – really anybody – would have clearly recognised that Aziraphale was lying. His nervous gestures, the voice, the eyes – it really jumped right at one’s face. Everything was so over the top, it was absolutely obvious. There was only one person in the whole wide world, that could possibly not be sure about it, and that was Crowley.  
“Me neither.”  
Aziraphale knew that had to be a lie. _“Demons lie.”_ Well, he was lying too. But that wasn’t the point.  
“You’re keeping something from me,” the angel forced himself to say, literally dying inside trying not to show, that he too, was hiding secrets. Crowley’s mouth fell open for a second before he prepared his counterattack.  
“Strong words for someone who didn’t tell me when he discovered where the antichrist was.”  
“Crowley, seriously? Not again!”  
The demon never missed a chance to remind his partner in crime of that. It was getting on his nerves. Any time Aziraphale was the slightest bit cross with Crowley, he’d come back to that topic.  
“I won’t discuss that with you again. Why won’t you tell me, what you are doing in Paris?”  
_“Do you have to make it so hard, angel?”_  
Crowley didn’t have a choice, he had to protect him.  
“It’s none of your business.”  
Right. There it was. Hadn’t he known all along? Crowley sighed, seeing Aziraphale’s sad puppy eyes.  
_“What did I do to deserve this?”_  
Another thought popped up in his head, bothering him since he had entered the club.  
“Where are you going to stay anyway?”  
The angel wouldn’t drive back to London, that was for sure.  
“Well, that’s none of _your_ business.”  
“Aziraphale…”  
It was the serious tone in Crowley’s voice, that made the angel speak further.  
“Well, my new friends offered me a place to stay for the night.”  
“WHAT?”  
The demon couldn’t believe his ears. That was impossible. He couldn’t be seriously just checking in with some strangers.  
“No, angel, that’s absolutely out of question. You can stay at my hotel, there’s enough room.”  
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.  
“No. I’m staying.”  
And again, Crowley was happy for his sunglasses.  
“You can’t stay with some strangers! You don’t know them!”  
“They are very nice people and I absolutely intend to accept their hospitality.”  
Why had this angel to be so stubborn?  
“Angel, I won’t let you stay with people you just met in a club. Come with me.”  
That was the final straw. Now he had gotten himself an angry angel.  
“Why do you think you could tell me what to do? Who do you think you are?”  
And a bit desperately a sentence shoved itself up the angel’s throat, from a place he had hidden for so long and so successful – until now.  
“What do you think _we_ are?”  
That hit home. Crowley’s head only moved slightly like he had been punched in the face. Without a word, he left for the door.  
“Crowley… wait. Let’s talk tomorrow.”  
No matter what, this soft voice always managed to make him stop somehow.  
“Hotel breakfast is from 7 to 9 am. It’s the _L'oiseau de nuit_.” And with that Crowley left, as fast as possible, to not give the angel any chance to stop him a second time.

Later that night - while Crowley was laying wide awake in his bed, imagining hundreds of ways his angel could possibly get into trouble that night and resisting the urge to check on him; while Aziraphale was still drinking with these really nice young lads, who were telling him how he didn’t need that sucker in his life – two celestial beings that should never ever meet, did, well, met. They met in a place neither heaven nor hell, neither abandoned nor crowded, neither obvious nor hidden. The archangel Michael looked nervously over her shoulder. She didn’t want to be spotted with the demon.  
“But you did see it too. He fucking bathed in the holy water.”  
The unknown demon grunted helplessly. Michael glanced over her shoulder again, warily, before she signalled the demon to lean forward.  
"What if they swapped bodies?”  
Shocked, the demon shied away.  
"They can’t! They’re an angel and a demon! It is impossible!”  
“Maybe they can. Maybe they already have.”  
The words sunk in, while the demon stared at the archangel intensely.  
“You mean to say… hellfire and holy water might still destroy them?”  
Very chill, Michael leaned back.  
“I’d say it would be worth a try.”

“Oh good Lord.” Early next day, Aziraphale was standing in front of the _L'oiseau de nuit_. Which really didn’t meet his standards. The formerly white façade had seen better times and the narrow black door, which marked the entry, felt nowhere near welcoming. It was located across the graveyard _Cimetière du Père Lachaise_ and on any other day, Aziraphale might have taken a stroll through the park and visited the grave of Oscar Wilde. But this wasn’t any other day. Carefully trying not to touch anything, the angel wriggled through the entrance. The guy at the reception didn’t pay any attention to him. It was the first time Aziraphale felt the wish to do what Crowley always did – to write a review on this Goggle thing. The angel went to the breakfast room right away. It was a carelessly designed, sterile white room with only a few seats and a sad-looking choice of food. No sight of Crowley anywhere yet. Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you Mr. Fell?” The angel turned and faced a black-haired, depressed-looking teenage waiter. Straightening his bow tie he went in serious bookshop owner mode. “I am, indeed.” The waiter didn’t look impressed at all. “I have a note for you,” he answered, handed over a piece of paper and disappeared as fast as he had appeared. Curious, Aziraphale opened it. There was only one sentence on it.

Can’t make it angel, sorry.

Crowley had been sitting at least two hours on this note. In the end, he had decided, that he had to deal with the angel later – he had to find the weapon and make sure, that they were safe first. Aziraphale crushed the piece of paper in his hand. “Crowley you… bastard!” He’d never sworn like that before. The demon really got on his nerves. Without hesitating any moment longer, he left the hotel. _“What do I do now? How should I find him?”_ He clearly wouldn’t answer his phone and to wait for his return was no option. It would take a miracle to find him. Just as Aziraphale wanted to start to use his powers a sweet, innocent voice stopped him. “Hello, Mr. Angel!”

Anathema had wanted to return to the spot where she was led the day before. But she also wanted to take her family with her this time. However, the only interesting thing to see in this area was the graveyard, a great park with many graves of famous people. Newt wasn’t really happy about this choice, but Agnes had been immediately thrilled. Also, he had never managed to talk Anathema out of anything she really wanted to do before. So they took the metro early in the morning and walked towards the graveyard.  
“This whole trip is already scary and weird enough and now you’re taking our daughter to a graveyard of all places,” Newt muttered under his breath.  
“Don’t be a jerk about it. It’s only tombstones, she’s already seen plenty of that. It’s really more like a big park visit.”  
Her husband snorted.  
“More like a park full of dead people.”  
“Oh come on. She looks forward to the park, really been excited about it. Am I right, Agnes?”  
Silence.  
“Agnes?”  
Suddenly, both turned around. They had been so engaged in their dispute, that they hadn’t realised that Agnes was gone.  
“Oh my god, AGNES!”


	6. Words cut deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! It means very much to me. :)  
> Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

It had still been very early in the morning and there had been scarcely people around when Crowley walked past the porter in his lab coat over his black clothes. Which made no sense at all, because real scientists would never wear their lab coat outside – they would be contaminated. Lab coats had to be sterile. Nevertheless, the porter didn’t react. It must have been Crowley’s over-confident entrance.

“Hello, Mr. Angel!” There was only one voice Aziraphale was comfortable with hearing _angel_ from. Otherwise, it only meant trouble. He turned to look at a somehow familiar face of a small girl, with olive teint and dark, long hair. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” We’ll never get to know how this without a doubt very interesting conversation would have ended because at that moment, Anathema and Newt turned the corner exhaustedly.  
“AGNES!”  
_“Agnes?”_ The angel studied the little family with a furrowed brow. "Do we know each other?”  
It was only then, that Anathema looked at the angel, recognising him immediately. It only needed one word.  
“Armageddon.”  
Ah yes, the memories came back.  
“Oh, what a lovely coincidence running into you here of all places. You founded a family, how nice!”  
“We found more than that.”  
Anathema waved with Agnes Nutter’s book. “It’s not so much a coincidence than _prediction_.”  
The angel’s eyes widened. “A second book of Agnes Nutter’s Nice and Accurate prophecies? May I?”  
Reluctantly Anathema handed over the book. A pity Aziraphale didn't have his glasses with him. But since he didn’t really need them, it was just a matter of style. After turning a few pages, the angel stopped abruptly. Anathema knew that kind of reaction.  
“What is it? Which prophecy?” Without a word, the angel showed her the paragraph.

3021:  
When the angel leaveth the grayveyard  
And the demons run  
Aspire sum more wisdom  
In a place found for it

“This angel kind of left the graveyard. And a demon did run.” Aziraphale didn’t bother explaining more, which was surely for the best. “Aspire some more wisdom, in a place found for it.”  
The three of them looked at each other. What did that mean? No one of them had realised, that Agnes was listening very carefully.  
“If I want to learn something, daddy always says, I’m going to learn that in school when I’m older.” The three pairs of eyes wandered to the smiling little girl, and back to each other, as the penny dropped.

Crowley crossed the courtyard with quick steps and entered the building soundlessly. He had studied the plan of the university and therefore - for a change - did know where he had to go. The laboratory was on the first floor. All of the employees, professors, and students would have a sudden emergency meeting in a few minutes. Crowley hid behind a snack machine, while all the doors opened at the very same minute and the confused university staff left the building. The demon grinned. That had been too easy. He slipped through the door, into the laboratory – and stopped grinning. Somehow he had imagined the weapon being kind of highlighted, placed centrally in the room, clearly one of the most important objects of study. Obviously, it wasn’t. Nothing was. There were only loads of desks with all kinds of stuff on them. _“Fuck, how I am supposed to find this?”_

Meanwhile, Anathema had studied the area, searching for schools and universities nearby on Google Maps and they had decided to opt for the Arts et Métiers. Miraculously a taxi stopped by in an instant and soon after, the porter faced an odd little family.  
“You want what?”  
"Well, our little daughter is already planning her future as a great scientist and we wanted to show her the university.”  
“Hm.”  
This was a quite unusual day. First, there had been this odd student all in black with a lab coat running past, which the porter had decided to ignore, then there had been this emergency meeting all of a sudden, just two minutes ago. And now this family with a very very young kid.  
"And who’s that?” he asked, pointing to the angel.  
“Uncle.” “Granddad.”  
Aziraphale and Newt glanced at each other, both mouthing what the other had said.  
“Granddad,” Anathema reassured, smiling. The angel looked away, making a face. The porter shrugged and waved them through. He should ask for a pay raise, he decided.  
“I can’t believe this worked!” Newt shook his head, while Aziraphale already strolled through the courtyard, searching for signs of Crowley. “What do we do now?”  
“Just let me think for a second,” Anathema urged. She had almost forgotten what a nervous wreck her husband used to be in such situations. She started to turn the pages of her book and Newt snorted.  
“You really expect this to work again?”  
“It did work quite well the last time and I can’t remember you complaining about it when the first prophecy came true.”  
Uh, that burned. Newt’s cheeks went red and his tongue silent. It was the angel’s voice, which cracked the silence again.  
“I don’t want to frighten you, but I do think your daughter went missing again.”

Frantically Crowley searched the desks. Was there anything that looked at least a bit like a weapon? In his opinion, there were way too many microscopes in here. Suddenly the noise of a whole floor full of people returning to their workspace reached his ears. “Shit, they’re already back.” As it turned out, the university members were all extremely good organised and figured out very quickly, that there wasn’t a real emergency. “Shit shit shit shit!” Crowley turned around in panic when something caught his eye. It was a jar, filled with a blue substance and a black lid with a nozzle on top. “Near enough!” Without much thought, he took the device and ran for it. There were already voices within earshot. Crowley chose the first door in sight and vanished into the library, facing a very big bookshelf. After a short break, he tried to examine the device but was stopped by an unexpected voice. “Hello, Mr. Demon!”

Anathema and Newt ran along the building in a frenzied search for Agnes, with Aziraphale in tow. “I can’t believe we’ve lost her again!” Newt muttered. “Normally she doesn’t run away just like that,” Anathema explained, while Aziraphale had only one thought. _“She called me Mr. Angel. How did she know?”_ He followed them to the library, when a relieved “Agnes!” signalled him, that they had found their daughter. Little Miss Device stood at the edge of a big bookshelf, not noticing them. It wasn’t before they heard a voice, that they recognised, the little girl was talking to somebody. “Mr. Demon?” That was Crowley! Aziraphale sped up – well, as fast as the angel could manage – caught up with the others and they crashed around the bend – to the demon’s shock.  
“What are you doing here?!”  
“Same as you. Trying to find a weapon.”  
Crowley already knew his friend’s bitchy tone – he wouldn’t admit it, but he liked it. It was the content, that stung.  
“You lied to me?!”  
“You were lying to me first!”  
Newt and Anathema exchanged a glance.  
“I thought I could trust you. You’re the good one, for fuck's sake!”  
“Well, I clearly should have known I couldn’t trust _you_.”  
_“Words cut deeper than swords,”_ Anathema recalled. That was part of a prophecy she read. Frantically she started to turn the pages. They were all so consumed with their personal sensitivities, that they were all startled when Agnes suddenly screamed: “They’re coming! Run!” And little Agnes ran like hell itself was after her. Defying all logic and without questioning the 5-year old girl, they all made a run for it. Not a second too early - a big blast unhinged the door, which crashed into the bookshelf, precisely where they had been standing less than a minute ago. The five of them had sprinted to the other end of the library, hiding behind another big bookshelf. “Demons…,” Crowley hissed. Obviously, they hadn’t trusted him to deliver the weapon. Not a surprise anyway. Meanwhile, Anathema had found the prophecy, which had lingered in her mind.

“The best weapons in this world are books  
Words cut deeper than swords  
Find yeeself in a wise place  
Thine eyes are the windows of escape.”

They all looked blankly at Anathema before the penny dropped. “The best weapons are books… in a wise place,” Aziraphale recited, glancing at all the books around him. _“Words cut deep,”_ Crowley thought. “The windows of escape…” Anathema mumbled. Newt had been very silent lately, but now he wondered too. “Maybe real windows?” That was it. All five pairs of eyes turned to the window. “But it’s the first floor.” “There is a tree!” Crowley was already at the window, opening it and gesturing towards Aziraphale. “Come on, angel!” _“I should have gone to that sports lesson,”_ the angel thought ruefully, while somehow managing to climb out of the window, onto the tree – and if that wouldn’t have been already enough – to the ground. Crowley was close behind him, climbing with only one hand since the other one held tight to the weapon.  
Anathema was about to follow them when the voice of her daughter stopped her. “Don’t go there, Mummy. It isn’t our place.” Strangely enough, she listened to her without hesitating. Another prophecy came to her mind. _“Listen to Agnes for she will save your lives – More than once.”_


	7. Never

Incredibly relieved Crowley and Aziraphale landed on their feet on the soft grass of the corner of the inner courtyard. But the relief only lasted for a second, when unexpectedly the archangel Michael and three demons appeared behind the tree. Michael and one of the uglier demons went ahead, facing Crowley, and the other two positioned themselves next to Aziraphale, like guards on the brink of detaining him. It was Crowley’s nightmare coming true.  
“Already working together again,” he hissed at Michael, who didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. “Your laughter will die away soon enough. Is that the weapon?” Aziraphale hadn’t even realised that the unimpressive thing in Crowley’s hand could be the weapon. Somehow he’d still thought, the demon would tell him right away if he’d found it. Crowley turned the gun menacingly in his hand. They knew each other for more than 6.000 years now and Aziraphale would have trusted him with his life – but after the last two days, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Playing along, Crowley bared his teeth.  
“Yes it is, and I’m not going to give it to any of you.” Michael didn’t look impressed. She flicked and the ugly demon handed her a very particular object, well known by Crowley - a plant mister. The demon wore gloves and was visibly trembling. “I’m sure you realise, what’s inside of this helpful tool you introduced your dear friend Hastur to?” A shiver ran down Aziraphale’s spine. _“Holy water!”_ Had they discovered their disguise? Crowley still played it cool.  
“Your holy water doesn’t scare me. Don’t you remember our last encounter?”  
“Oh, I do. But the more interesting question is – do you? I wonder… maybe I should ask Aziraphale instead?”  
The archangel’s glance shifted from demon to angel, while the two guards behind Aziraphale came closer threateningly. _“They figured it out.”_  
“Oh, I have no idea what you are talking about. I absolutely don’t know what you are talking about at all,” the angel tried to bluff. Normally, Crowley would have made fun of the angel’s incompetence when it comes to bluffing. But now their lives depended on it.  
“Well, I personally think, dear Crowley, that you two have fooled us and holy water will still destroy you. Could this possibly be true? Should I try?”  
“NO!”  


Surprised, Crowley lifted his head. He had still tried to play it cool. But bluffing really wasn’t one of Aziraphale’s strengths. Michael smiled complacently.  
“Knew it. You’re so weak, Aziraphale. So… Crowley. Hell offers you a deal. If you prove your loyalty, prove that you’re still a demon – they’ll take you back. No consequences, no restrictions. All you have to do is fire that weapon and execute him. Execute heaven’s traitor Aziraphale.”  
Even through the sunglasses, one could see the shock in Crowley’s eyes. They couldn’t be serious.  
“You’re an angel yourself and you would sacrifice another angel? For a demon?”  
If it were not an archangel we were talking about, one would describe Michael’s smile as hellish.  
“Any time.”  


Helplessly Crowley stared at Aziraphale. Helplessly Aziraphale stared back.  
“I’m not going to wait the whole day. Do it now. Execute the angel. Or get executed yourself by holy water.”  
It felt like Crowley had stopped time again. But there was no doubt on the demon’s side. His hand with the weapon sank down.  
“Never.”  
“NO!”  
Aziraphale had to stop this. _“Alright. You’ve left your body before. You can do this. You have to.”_ The angel used all his energy, tensed every nerve cell – to literally leave his body. His physical shape stayed stuck at its place, while the angel’s aura sought its path to Crowley, and laid itself over him, a thin layer of himself tightly covering Crowley’s body. No angel had ever done anything like this before. The demon felt it. Using all his power, he concentrated completely on one thought, hoping that Aziraphale would somehow hear him.

 _“Angel, what are you doing?”_  
_“Trust me. I’m protecting you!”_  
_“Are you sure this will work?”_  
_“It has to. You have to trust me,”_

This all happened in just a few seconds. Crowley had just stated “Never.” Michael was neither surprised nor annoyed. It would be more fun to execute them both.  
“Is this your last word?”  
“Yes.”  
Everything Crowley felt, saw or heard was somehow dull. Like he’d gotten seriously drunk.  
“Alright. Say goodbye to your sneaky boyfriend, Aziraphale.”  
Thus Michael lifted the plant mister and pressed. The holy water came out in a fine dust of water. The wind carried it further until it reached Crowley. Nothing happened. The water just dripped off the thin layer of Aziraphale’s aura protecting Crowley. Michael and the ugly demon stared in horror.  
“Impossible!”  
“I told you to leave me alone. You didn’t want to listen. And now, you’ve got me very very cross.”  
Crowley flicked and the plant mister bursted. Holy water brushed the ugly demon’s skin and screaming in utter dismay, he decayed. Which led the demons behind Aziraphale to make a run for it, horror-struck. Crowley threw the weapon on the ground and crushed it with his foot and a little help of his supernatural powers and before Michael could recollect herself, he headed straight forward to Aziraphale, reached for his hand and screamed: “Angel, run!”  
Aziraphale fully returned into his body and they ran for it like both heaven and hell were at their heels. Which was actually true. 

They left the building, crossed the street and didn’t stop until they reached a small side street, fairly certain that nobody had managed to follow them. Both were breathing heavily. Aziraphale was leaning on his knees, and just as he straightened up, all of a sudden the demon pulled him close and buried his face against the angel’s shoulder.  
“Angel, I’m done playing games. Please just say you’ll stick with me to the end.”  
The demon was nearly shaking. Aziraphale only replied: “Oh my dear,” and held him tight. And it was enough. It was all Crowley needed. He didn’t push him away, didn’t reject him, didn’t let him fall. He just held him, until he felt ok again.

Meanwhile, the Device family had left the building unobtrusively. At first, Anathema’s pendulum nearly exploded from all the energy, uniting in one place. But after a few minutes, it worked properly again and with its help, they managed to find their two celestial partners in crime. Crowley and Aziraphale had just left the side street, acting perfectly normal like nothing happened at all, when they all bumped into each other.  
“Did everything work out? Did you find the weapon?” Anathema asked.  
“Yes. I destroyed it.”  
“The real one or the fake one you had with you?”  
An awkward silence fell over them.  
“What do you mean with fake one?”  
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Crowley!”  
Offended, Crowley stared at his angelic counterpart.  
“I did all the work here and you still complain!”  
“You’re incapable of delivering things!”  
“Oh now it’s you bringing up the antichrist again.”  
_“And these two really have major parts in saving the world?”_ Anathema thought and ended their dispute.  
“What you were carrying was a powder paint spray gun. You use it to coat things.”  
Another awkward silence.  
“Does that mean the real weapon is still in the university?”  
All eyes were on Crowley. The ungrateful work somehow always found its way to him.  
“Well, yes. No. Maybe. How should I know? Maybe there never was a weapon. They said the humans didn’t realise it could … hurt angels. Maybe it really can’t.”  
Anathema raised her eyebrows.  
“And that is enough for you?”  
Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance. Actually – yes. That had already been enough work for a whole year.  
“I dare say I’m really exhausted and really looking forward to a nice lunch in London. You’re coming, angel?”  
“Try to stop me,” Aziraphale replied cheekily. 

The Device family decided to stay for a few more days, trying to have a real holiday. All of them agreed to just leave things as they were, with the _Dangel_ team checking up on the university from time to time, making sure there was no threat coming for them. And maybe just four of the five people were sure, that they were to meet again someday in the future. Could have also been five - with Agnes you could never tell.

Aziraphale and Crowley went up the street to the Bentley, which would await them around the corner.  
“Crowley?”  
“Yes, angel?”  
“I just wanted to say… I’ll happily wiggle through life with you. To the very end.”  
“ _Wiggle through,_ oh for fuck's sake, where do you get these expressions from?”  
But there was no way stopping the shy smile playing around his lips.  
“Let’s get you safely back to London,” Crowley added.  
It surely won’t be the last they’d heard from heaven and hell. But as long as they were together, no one would ever stand a chance against them.  
“Ah, Crowley?”  
“What?”  
“You ran past the Bentley.”  
The demon turned, aghast. It was true. He’d been so in thoughts, he had run past his Bentley. Aziraphale giggled with no sign of stopping in the near future.  
“Oh shut up and get in the car.”  
Still giggling he did as Crowley said.  
“Gettin' on the ritz, my dear.”  
“Puttin’ on the ritz, Aziraphale! _Puttin’!_ ” The demon shook his head. _“This angel will surely be the end of me.”_ And no other ending would ever make him happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fanfic. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing. :)


End file.
